Mr Curtain and the Case of the Enab's Bane
by Grammar Defender
Summary: Reynie Muldoon has been murdered. But by whom? And why? Sumbitted for Hopeless Romantic's 'It's Elemetary, Dear Wetherall' Challenge. Warning - Character death  it being a MURDER mystery, and all .
1. The Detective

Author's Note – Entered in Hopeless Romantic 999's "It's Elementary, Dear Wetherall" challenge. I like the basic premise, though I'm not at all sure how the actual mystery will come out. Mystery just isn't my genre, though I've tried a few unsuccessful times to write it. I enjoy Sherlock Holmes, though, and my writing has markedly improved since last I tried, so I'm willing to give this genre another go. Here's hoping that this turns out better than my "Murder at the Bakery." It was horrible. Trust me. This is a couple years after the books; Kate is eighteen, Reynie… Reynie _was _seventeen as _is_ Sticky, and our resident poet is the healthy age of eight. Also, there is something in here that, if seen from a screaming fangirl's perspective, might seem like Kaynie. This is not so. This is no Kaynie! Really. Truly. Honestly.

Disclaimer – I don't own the Mysterious Benedict Society or Blue's Clues. Heck, I don't even _like _ Blue's Clues, but I had fun referencing it. Fun fact; I gave the detective his name just for that reference.

Warnings – Character death (It's a murder mystery. What do you expect?)

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><p>~Ledroptha Curtain and the Case of the Enab's Bane ~<p>

~Murder in the Mansion, or, Old Enemies and New Detectives~

Reynie was dead. There was no blood – none at all, in fact. Still, he was most undeniably deceased. He lay on his back in Mr. Benedict's dining room, spread eagle, his face twisted with pain and his skin deathly pale.

No one else was in the room, the Perumals having rushed away to contact the police, the ambulance, the fire fighters, _anyone_ to help their foster son. Everyone else had gone with them, not wanting to stay in the lonely gray house with a dead body, for they all knew in their hearts that Reynie was beyond help.

And indeed he was, for the poison that had ended his life was potent and fast-acting.

Now the Perumals, the Washingtons, the Benedicts, Moocho, and Kate sat crammed into the van on the way to the police station. Miss Perumal was sobbing into Mrs. Perumal's shoulder, Sticky was crying softly in his parent's arms, Constance was sitting between her two adopted sisters with her face in her hands, Moocho was mopping his eyes with his oven mitts, which he had neglected to take off in his haste to assist the Perumals, and Kate, the only one who was collected enough to drive, gripped the wheel hard enough to break a person's hand, if she had been holding one.

Reynie's death was painful, made no less so by the dull ache that was Mr. Benedict's demise, still undiminished after all these months, and the hurt that was paramount to agony for Kate – Milligan, killed on what was supposed to have been his last mission as a secret agent.

The overcast sky seemed to reflect the mood of the morose group in the car as they drove through the bleak landscape that Stonetown adopted in November. The first snow of the season was yet to come, though it had been predicted for next Friday. Kate fought down the urge to cry as she thought of how much Reynie had been looking forward to it – to snowball fights and snowmen and steaming mugs of hot chocolate to take the bite of cold from his nose. _No! I can't cry – I _have_ to get us to the station._ Kate thought resolutely.

After half an hour of sitting and weeping, they arrived at their destination. Moocho was out at once and holding the door open for the Perumals, the Benedicts, and the Washingtons. They filed out, too distraught even to thank the former circus performer. Miss Perumal managed a sort of mumble, but it was unintelligible to the point where he couldn't be sure if it was thanks or just a supressed sneeze.

Kate got out without a word, her hands aching from how tightly she had been gripping the wheel. Together, they all walked to the cinderblock building that housed the police department. With downcast eyes, they filed in.

A kind officer asked them what had happened. Miss Perumal told her how Reynie had seemed to choke on something, how the whites of his eyes had turned purple, how Stick had recognized it as a certain kind of poison, and how, minutes later, Reynie came to lie in the position he was currently in. It was a horrible tale indeed, and by the time she had finished, even Kate had succumbed to tears.

"We have to know w-who d-d-did it," Miss Perumal finished tearfully.

"I'm not sure that it was murder, ma'am," said the kindly policewoman, who had been scribbling notes down on a clipboard. "It could have been just a mistake. I admit, though, I don't know much about this," she consulted her notes, "Enab's Bane you're talking about."

Sticky straightened at once, his face clearing of all expression and his hands (previously replacing his contacts) going to his sides. "Enab's Bane is a plant belonging to the _caedo _family. It is the only plant discovered so far that falls into this grouping. It is extremely rare and only grows in the region of North America that has recently been established by Stonetown. Once used in Native American rituals, this plant has recently been discovered to be one of the most powerful toxins known to man. There is no known cure to ingesting it, though unconfirmed instances have claimed to have used heavy applications of sesquipedalian palindromes to cure the haemorrhaging that occurs from physical contact. Enab's Bane has also been featured in the latest horror movie entitled, "Murder in the Laboratory." Enab's Bane is currently being investigated as a possible cure for cancer and as another possible source of power. Symptoms of ingestion include vomiting, internal bleeding, rapid swelling of the lymph nodes, and, most strikingly, the whites of a victims eyes turning a light purple. Death occurs within minutes of consuming the plant. Now grown in Stonetown laboratories, Enab's Bane is now being tested so that scientists can ascertain the chemicals that form such a powerful toxin." As Sticky finished his speech, his shoulders sunk back into a depressed hunch and his face, perfectly expressionless a moment ago, crumpled back into his previous expression.

The officer – Officer Darcy, as her badge read – gave Sticky an odd look.

"He has photographic memory," sobbed Mrs. Washington. "He m-must have read that in 'Science T-today.'" Sticky nodded soberly.

Darcy's face cleared slightly, although she still looked upset by the news and impressed by Sticky's perfect memory. "Hm. Well, it _does_ sound like it wasn't an accident. But _murder_? We haven't had a murder in Stonetown for eighteen years!"

"What about Milligan?" asked Kate, her eyes flashing with sudden fury. "_That _was murder. _That _was in Stonetown."

"Milligan? Who's Milligan?" Darcy was confused.

"Kate," said Rhonda soothingly, "Milligan was a secret agent. His death wasn't publicized. Few people even know that he existed, never mind that he was a secret agent and that he was killed in Stonetown. Calm down." Her voice was gentle, but her eyes were firm. _Don't lose your temper, _they seemed to say.

Kate glared at her for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the floor. Milligan, Mr. Benedict, and now Reynie – she wanted to know who was responsible for these deaths, and throwing things or kicking holes in walls wouldn't help.

"Well, I'll have to send my men to the mansion to see. If they think that it's murder, we can call in the county detective. Until then, though, I would hesitate to call it such. I'll come right away, but isn't it more likely that somebody just accidentally picked some of this Enab's Bane when they were picking lettuce or something?"

"If you had been listening to Sticky," growled Number Two, speaking for the first time, "Then you'd know that the only place it's found in the world is here in Stonetown." She popped a handful of sunflower seeds into her mouth and began chewing furiously.

"Yes, but it could still have been picked up and put into his food by accident." Darcy was looking more and more unconvinced of what she said, and her eyes darted between the faces of the group before her.

"Stonetown isn't agriculturally suited to growing much of anything besides grass and Enab's Bane," said Sticky miserably. He pushed his contacts back into place. "The only way to mistakenly get it into food would have been to go to a laboratory or a government-protected fenced-in habitat and pick some using gloves dipped in formaldehyde. And then put some in his food. It would be pretty hard to do by accident."

"He's been murdered, you snob. Don't just gawp like a frog! _Do _something!" Constance added, her face red and puffy from the crying she had been doing.

"Constance…" Rhonda intoned softly.

Darcy looked distinctly unsettled now. "Well… Maybe you're right. I guess I'd better go at once. Will one of you stay here in case the detective drops by? He was supposed to be coming around sometime today for –" she blushed furiously, "– a dinner date." Darcy's quick green eyes scanned the room, looking at Miss Perumal and the other adults hopefully.

"Kate, would you stay, please?" Number Two asked politely.

Kate frowned. She wanted to be in the thick of things, even if the only action was investigating the scene. What she did not want was to be stuck here in the police station, cooped up and not knowing what had been discovered.

Just as she was about to voice these opinions, however, Mrs. Washington spoke up. "Yes, y-you and M-Moocho stay h-here. Y-y-you c-can always drive the detective to the mansion if he c-comes."

Kate bit her lip. "All right," she muttered unhappily. "I'll stay."

As the others filed back through the door, Constance stayed behind. "Sorry," she mumbled, her eyes averted from Kate's. "About Reynie, I mean. He was –" she broke off, apparently overwhelmed by her emotions. The girls turned away from each other, both pairs of eyes brimming with fresh tears.

Moocho gave Kate a tremendous pat on the shoulder, hard enough to send most people staggering. Kate, however, merely looked up at the strong man and gave him a watery smile. Then she strode off, heading for where she knew she could find a place to run to burn off the horrible, crushing feeling of sadness that was plaguing her.

She came to a long, straight hallway lined with prison cells. Here and there petty criminals stared at her, wondering who this bucket-toting girl was and what her business here was. Kate broke into a sprint, running back and forth and back and forth until her tears had stopped and her temper somewhat soothed.

"Ah! Miss Wetherall. So glad to see you. How have you been, lately?" The voice of Mr. Curtain sounded strangely tinny and hollow in the prison. Kate turned to look at her old enemy, who was smiling at her from behind the bars most disconcertingly.

It was a strange thing; the week that they had visited Mr. Curtain after Mr. Benedict had died in a tragic fire in the public library, Mr. Curtain had _smiled _at them, rather than sneered and yelled and thrown thing at them like he usually did. In fact, he had been almost pleasant when they had visited last time. He seemed much happier, now that his brother was dead.

"Hello, Mr. Curtain," Kate said morosely.

"My! Aren't you down in the dumps today. What's wrong?" He seemed genuinely concerned, and Kate saw no reason not to tell him.

"Reynie died." She swiped at her eyes impatiently, disgusted at herself. _What's got into me? Pull yourself together!_

"Oh, dear. You must be dreadfully upset. I know you two were close…"

"Good grief! That's what Rhonda said, too. It's not like we were in love, or anything. We were just friends."

"Mm." Mr. Curtain didn't look convinced. "How did he die?"

"Poisoned."

"By what?"

"Enab's Bane. It's –"

"A poisonous plant, I know. They allow me to read the paper, here." They stood a while, Kate fighting tears, Mr. Curtain fighting a smile.

"They're going to investigate the scene now. They left me behind in case the detective comes." Kate slumped onto a bench directly across from Mr. Curtain's cell.

The man spoke in a voice that suggested great dislike, "Inspector Blue isn't the most intellectually advanced detective in the world. He's quite a bozo, really. He's very kindly, but I doubt that he's solved a mystery in his life."

"Then how did he get his job?"

"The police say he got hired because he was the sheriff's son. I'd say that that's the most probable way for him to have gotten the job." Mr. Curtain looked as far down the hall as the bars of his cell would let him. "Speaking of Inspector Blue, I believe he has just arrived."

Kate jumped to her feet. "Really? Thank you, sir!" she said, and darted off towards the distant sounds of Moocho greeting the Inspector.

When at last she skidded to a halt in the main part of the police station, Moocho had donned his oven mitts once more and was readying the car left for them outside. Inspector Blue was inside – out of the cold – watching Moocho and didn't even glance at Kate as she stopped feet behind him.

"Excuse me, sir," Kate looked at the detective expectantly, waiting for a reply. When none came, she repeated herself a bit louder. Again, no answer. When she said it again, she almost yelled it. At this the man turned around and jumped in surprise, apparently not aware that she had been there.

The inspector was a tall, fit, rather sickeningly handsome man. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, although she knew from a file she had seen Number Two carrying that he was actually forty-two. His blonde hair was cut in a way that made it flop into his baby-blue eyes, making him look like a cross between a puppy and a llama. He wore a uniform that consisted of khaki pants and a khaki shirt with a black leather vest with badges sewn onto it. Kate noted that some of these bore messages like; "Annual Smile Competition (ASC) Second Place" and "Weekly Press Interview," but the largest and most brightly polished identified him as Inspector Ronald Blue.

"Why, a good a morning, a madam!" He spoke very strangely, inserting a's into random places.

"Good morning, Inspector Blue," said Kate miserably. This man appeared to be a bit deaf, and once again she needed to repeat herself to be heard. "Shall we get into the car? I guess Moocho already told you what's going on?"

"A yes he a has! A sorry, about your friend there, a girl." He looked more like a llama than ever as he said it.

_If he's the one investigating Reynie's murder, then we'll never catch the person who did it. And the State detective's too busy to come. Who else, then? I'm no detective, and neither are your friends. Reynie was the detective, but he's dead. Reynie's dead._ It still seemed so unreal, so impossible. How could he be dead? Who would want to kill Reynie? Kate lead the detective to the car in which Moocho was now sitting.

As they drove back to the Mansion, the sky opened and it began to rain so hard that it was difficult to see where they were going even with the windshield wipers working at maximum capacity. Blue chatted amiably, apparently unaware of Kate and Moocho's grief.

As they pulled into the drive, Blue was still saying, "And a then, when everyone thought a that I a wasn't a going to a solve a the a case, I a solved it! I a noticed the a knees of his a pants as the a knees of my dog's a pants, and –" he broke off as the car lurched to a halt. Apparently realizing the precarious emotional state of the two people now getting out of the car, he broke off and followed them.

When they came to the front door, he stopped. "You know, you a shouldn't a come with a me. The sight of death a might a not a be appropriate for such young, innocent a minds."

"I've already seen his body, you –" _Control yourself. Calm down, Kate._ She took a deep breath. "I watched him _die_, Inspector Blue. His body isn't going to be worse than…" she trailed off, her emotions too much. Wordlessly, Moocho opened the front door and led them into the maze.

Inspector Blue looked around in wonder at the complex maze of rooms. Where _was_ this? Who were these people? And why did they have a maze in their house?

After the two-hundred forty-three turns and twists that were required of anyone wishing to enter the house, Moocho, Kate, and Inspector Blue were impeded by yellow tape that marked the dining room entrance. Through the doorway, Reynie's sock-clad foot could be seen. The sound of several people sobbing could be heard from the kitchen.

Skirting the tape, the three traipsed into the kitchen, where they found all those who resided in the Mansion plus the Washingtons and Officer Darcy crying and drinking mugs of tea. Darcy wasn't crying, but she did look very disturbed and was trying to comfort a seemingly inconsolable Constance, who was wailing at the top of her voice and saying shrilly that Reynie's death was all her fault.

"No it wasn't, dear," said Darcy desperately, patting the little girl's shoulder. Constance yanked away.

"DON'T CALL ME _DEAR_!" she screamed. Rhonda and Number Two were at her side too, both trying to calm the eight year old down.

"Hush, Connie-girl," said Kate softly. Everyone jumped in surprise, even Constance, who must not, in her distress, have sensed the arrival of her friend and the inspector (Moocho had gone to turn off the car engine, which Blue had left running). Constance hushed, though tears still streamed down her cheeks and into her tea.

"Inspector Blue!" Darcy stood up, blushing once again. "So good of you to come. Would you…um… like some tea?"

"No a thanks, Darcy Darlin'. I have a work to a do." He turned to Mr. Washington, assuming that he was the main authority figure. "Take me to Ronnie."

Mr. Washington looked up, startled out of his misery. "_Reynie_," he said simply, and pointed to the door leading to the dining room.

During the next few hours, as Blue rooted around, dusted for finger prints, and asked repetitive questions, Sticky told Kate and Moocho (who had recently returned) about what they had discovered.

"Darcy said that it's definitely murder. She knows how to go to a crime scene without messing anything up, but she couldn't find any evidence at all. I'm normally pretty good at forensics, but I couldn't make head nor tail of it. There's just some Enab's Bane mixed in with the spinach. And only _Reynie's _spinach. That's the strange thing. Whoever did it would have had to sabotage the food on the way from the kitchen too the table. And only you, Moocho, could have done that, but we confirmed that it wasn't you."

Moocho looked a bit relieved. "How?"

Constance was in the room with you at the time, remember?" Moocho shook his head. "Well, she was, and she would have sensed it if you had done anything. She thinks that it's her fault for not noticing. That's why she's so upset."

Kate nodded. "I was wondering."

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><p>An hour later, Inspector Blue returned from the dining room. "I have a found a finger prints on the a plate!" He declared, obviously delighted with himself. " And I a have traced a them a to Moocho a Brazos."<p>

"But we know it wasn't him, Inspector!" Number Two sounded utterly exasperated.

"A how?" As Number Two and Rhonda explained to the detective what they knew, Kate bent down to speak to Sticky.

"This is a waste of time. Blue's clues are useless! What do we do?"

"Well, _we _can't solve this. Not without Reynie, anyway."

"There's only one person who'll be able to solve _this_ case." Kate and Sticky jumped. They had not noticed Constance come up behind them. She spoke in a nasal tone that suggested that her nose was plugged up, and her entire face was red and swollen from crying. "We need the help of Mr. Curtain."

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><p>Author's Note – I'm reasonably pleased with this opening chapter. It's not my best by any means, but I think that it does a decent job of introducing the mystery and the detective. Hopefully, I'll have chapter two out soon. It's going to be the most difficult, as I don't really know what's going to happen. I know the gist of it, but I haven't worked out the details. So it might be a day, it might be a moth, it might be three months before I have this updated. I'd estimate about a month. Thanks for reading, and thanks in advance for reviewing (because you ARE going to review, right?...).<p>

~Grammar Defender~


	2. The Mystery

Author's Note – Here's chapter two! This is where things get tricky; I'm almost making this up as I go. I know what pieces of evidence I want, and I know what they mean, but it'll be difficult getting it all to fit. I told you before – I'm rubbish at mystery. But I'm willing to give it a try. Enjoy!

Disclaimer – I do not own The Mysterious Benedict Society. *Sigh*

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><p>~Mr. Curtain and the Case of the Enab's Bane~<p>

~Mysteries and Mud~

It took a bit of convincing, but eventually Mr. Curtain agreed. Kate (Having been the one nominated to talk to the prisoner, as she got along best with him and was the most adept at sneaking unnoticed out of houses (They had decided against telling Inspector Blue).) had only been speaking with him for five minutes before their old enemy had decided to investigate the murder of Reynie Muldoon.

"But I'm afraid that, to do so, I will need to go to the crime scene myself. To see the body and such."

The remainder of the Society had thought it likely that Mr. Curtain would say this, and so had supplied Kate with a ready response. "I'm afraid that that wouldn't be very legal. We thought that maybe we could just take photos of the crime scene and show them to you. Alright?"

Mr. Curtain didn't look entirely pleased with this development*, but he took the camera that Kate was waving at him all the same. Looking through the pictures, he shook his head. "This really isn't good enough. I need to go myself. I'll stay handcuffed and guarded, of course, and I won't try anything."

Kate looked uncertain.

"Be certain of Curtain. I won't try to escape." Mr. Curtain scrutinized Kate's face. She looked away.

"Well... all right. I'll get the guard." She ran down the narrow hallway, returning in mere seconds dragging behind her a policeman in a navy blue suit. "Here he is, sir!" she called, smiling charmingly (she had long ago finished her crying, and now she was almost her usual self).

"Madam, I'm not at all sure that I'm allowed to release him, even if I keep him in cuffs. His sentence is for –"

"I promise on my honour that I won't do anything illegal. I just want to investigate the crime scene. I promise." Mr. Curtain seemed to be boring two holes in the officer's head with his eyes.

"I suppose I could allow it, just this once. But you'd better not try to escape! I'm armed." The officer stepped forward, keys in one hand, cuffs in the other. He opened the door to Mr. Curtain's cell, clapped the handcuffs onto the older man's wrists, and led him out of the cell, his left hand hovering near his gun.

When the three arrived at the mansion half an hour later, it was to find Inspector Blue leaving, arm in arm with Officer Darcy. Kate and noticed that Rhonda (whom the Society had told about their plan before Kate had left) was looking at them with relief.

"Thank goodness you're back!" Rhonda exclaimed once Inspector Blue and Darcy had driven away. "I was afraid Blue'd never leave. He's hopeless."

"A hopeless romantic, you mean," Constance said, looking with mild disgust at the retreating backs of the two, now closely entwined, figures driving away in the police car.

Rhonda nodded glumly. "He's too busy trying to get Officer Darcy's attention to actually put any work into the case. And even when he _tries_, he doesn't tell us anything that we don't already know."

"Is Curtain going to help?" asked Number Two, who had also been in on the plan.

"He agreed to, yes. But I had to bring him here. He said that the photos weren't good enough. But don't –"

"You _WHAT?"_ Constance interrupted, making the others jump. "Kate, I'm certain that Curtain is our foe; in past he's caused us naught but woe! And you brought him _here?_"

"Look, you said yourself that he's the only one around with brains enough to solve this case, and the only way he can do that is to bring him here. So I brought him." Kate stuck out her chin and narrowed her eyes slightly; an expression that always meant that she intended to be stubborn. And when Kate decided to be stubborn, there was no changing her mind.

"I suggested that we ask his assistance, not bring him here! But did you listen? No! You just brought him along, without any thought for our safety – as usual."

Stung, Kate opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a glare from Rhonda.

"At any rate," Number Two said, "Why don't you show Mr. Curtain the scene. He may be able to gleam additional information. More than Inspector Blue gleamed, anyway." She spoke the detective's name with a definite note of dislike.

Kate nodded and dashed off to the car where Mr. Curtain still sat, listening to the policeman's mingled threats and cautions as he gazed at the mansion. She led the two men from the car, looking back impatiently when they didn't move quickly enough.

As they approached the front door, Kate gave Mr. Curtain a summary of all that they knew. "– And we know that the Enab's Bane was put in his food somewhere between the kitchen and the dining room, because Constance was in the kitchen, and everyone could see his food in the dining room, and no one touched it," she finished.

"I see." Mr. Curtain stumbled slightly on an uneven patch of ground. Unable to catch himself due to his cuffed hands, he fell, stopping mere inches away from the ground as Kate caught him. "Thank, you, Miss. Wetherall. I'm afraid that grace is rather difficult when one's hands are cuffed." They continued across the front lawn and up the steps.

Rhonda opened the door for them, and they all stepped through. As they wound their way through the maze, Kate asked Mr. Curtain how he was going to solve the murder case.

"Why, it's elementary, my dear Wetherall." Mr. Curtain tapped his nose, looking very much like his dead brother. "I shall simply use the method that all great detectives use; start with all the people in the world as suspects, and then logically eliminate all but one. The one remaining is the criminal." Kate nodded. His logic was so strong that it seemed pointless to say anything else.

The next hours were spent by Mr. Curtain carefully examining the dining room, the kitchen, the hallway, the windows, and, finally, the maze. Right as he came to the front door, he stopped and exclaimed.

"What?" asked Sticky, looking around. "What is it?"

"My dear Washington, I do believe that we have just eliminated most of the world from our list of suspects." Mr. Curtain pointed at the floor, where muddy footprints from the storm the day before Reynie had died trailed into the maze.

Comprehension dawned suddenly on Sticky's tea-coloured face. Kate, still confused, looked up at the newly appointed detective. "You see," he said patronizingly, "the footprints show who has entered the mansion in the past day. Constance?"

"What?"

"Would you kindly tell us who's footprints are there?"

Constance would have loved to object, to stick her tongue out, to do _anything_ other than do as her old enemy wished, but she knew that Mr. Curtain was right; it _would _eliminate an awful lot of suspects. She obliged. "Me, Sticky, Reynie, Kate, Moocho, Miss and Mrs. Perumal –" She squinted at the muddy mess on the floor, trying to discern the distinct patterns and marks that different shoes made, "–Mrs. and Mustard Washington (this was her nickname for Mr. Washington, who was particularly fond of the yellow condiment) , Number Two, Rhonda, Inspector Blue, Officer Darcy, the other policeman, and… Mr. Benedict? Oh, no – sorry! That's just you." She looked up. "That's it."

"Thank you, Miss Contraire." Constance frowned at him, disliking being referred to as such. "Gentlemen," he said, turning to the others, "I believe we have our suspects."

They stared at him, amazed (and in Kate's case, jaw agape). It was amazing how simply and logically he thought about the murder case – and how he managed to, seemingly effortlessly, narrow the list of suspects from well over a billion people to only fifteen.

"Now, we merely need to begin eliminating the remaining people. Let us begin with those who reside at the police station – Inspector Blue, Officer Darcy, and that other officer – Officer Daniel, if my memory serves me correctly."

"Officer Daniel," Sticky confirmed.

"Thank you, my dear Washington." Mr. Curtain was obviously enjoying how similar 'Washington' was to 'Watson.' "Now as I was saying, I think that we can rule them out, seeing as they had never even been inside the mansion before today, as I believe young George here can confirm." Sticky confirmed. "That brings our suspect count down to twelve, I believe. Lovely!"

"Miss and Mrs. Perumal were both off grocery shopping at the time, so we can eliminate them, too," piped up Number Two.

"Down to ten, then. Actually, make that nine. _I_ have been in prison during this entire affair, and could not possibly have put Enab's Bane in young Reynard's spinach."

Kate could keep silent no longer. "But none of the suspects would have killed Reynie! None of us! We all loved him, and don't look at me like that, Constance. You know I don't mean that we all loved him as in _romantically_," for Constance had been looking at Kate with a slight smirk.

Constance knew full well that Kate hadn't been romantically interested in Reynie, of course, but that didn't prevent her from teasing her. Though she wasn't really in the teasing mood, she still couldn't resist a smile when the opportunity arose.

"We know that none of our remaining suspects would do such a thing, but perhaps one isn't who we think; either a different person in body or in mind. I'm sorry to upset you, but it really must be one of the nine. We've logically ruled out all the others."

"I… but… I suppose so." Kate looked down, embarrassed.

"Now, my friends, things get a little tricky. We must now try to eliminate the rest. I suggest that we start with Moocho."

"I already told you – Constance would have sensed it if Moocho put Enab's Bane in Reynie's food! She was right _there_," Kate said. Her anger and grief and frustration would not remain in check for very long, and she kicked a wall to burn some off. It worked, if only a little.

"Even so, my dear Wetherall, if Constance wasn't concentrating on Moocho's thoughts at the time, she might not have noticed his intentions. Isn't that right, Miss Con–?"

"But I _was_ concentrating on his thoughts!" Constance wailed. "I _was_! I wanted to know if he was going to give me ice cream after dinner like I asked. If he put Enab's Bane in Reynie's food, I would have sensed it." Tears sprang unbidden into her eyes. What if it _had _been Moocho? What if she just hadn't been paying enough attention? Reynie's death wasn't _her_ fault – was it?

"Wait – you were reading his thoughts while he was walking into the dining room? Were you reading them _while_ he was carrying the food to the table?" Mr. Curtain demanded. Constance sniffed and nodded. Mr. Curtain made a horrible screeching sound, like a fork scraping on metal, or fingernails on chalkboard – in short, Mr. Curtain was laughing. "Why then, our suspect count is down to eight! Miss Contraire would have known if he intended to murder Reynard. Down to eight already! This is proving to be a very simple case indeed." The others stared at him. They failed to see the humour in the situation, and Mr. Curtain's laughter just wasn't as infectious as Mr. Benedict's had been.

"What about suicide?" asked Rhonda tentatively.

"Reynie wouldn't –" Kate began, but Rhonda cut across her.

"I know he probably wouldn't," she conceded, "but we have to take all possibilities into account. Unless I'm very much mistaken, Reynie is still one of our suspects." She looked at Mr. Curtain, who stood pondering the possibilities for quite a while.

Finally, His eyes lit up and he said, "It couldn't have been a suicide, because to handle Enab's Bane safely, he would have had to be wearing gloved dipped in formaldehyde, and he wasn't wearing gloves, nor were his hands showing tremendous tissue damage or excessive bleeding. So now we're down to seven suspects."

Kate blinked back tears and looked away. She had been nursing a secret hope that it _had_ been suicide. It still would have been terrible, but at least none of her _living _friends would be accused.

"And now that I think about it, Constance couldn't have done it either. She was in the kitchen, not in the hall. Six more to go!" Mr. Curtain was saying.

Rhonda stifled a yawn (for it was now quite late). "What about me and Number Two? What's to say that we didn't do it?"

Once again, Mr. Curtain thought about it for a long time before answering. "From my previous examination of the mansion, I can conclude that Number Two was – ah – relieving herself at the time. You however… Where were you at the time when Reynie died?"

"I was at the table, like the rest of us. But only after I was called. When the food was being served by Moocho, I was in the study on the second floor."

"Well, then by all means, let us go to the study!" exclaimed Mr. Curtain. They ran off through the maze.

The second-floor study was – like most rooms in the old mansion – covered in books. Save a set of footprints, the rest of the floor was carpeted by dust.

"Excellent. Most excellent!" Mr. Curtain hurried forward, nearly tripping over a copy of _The Madison Family Tree and History_ that was lying on the floor. With some assistance from Kate, he knelt on the floor, bringing his large, lumpish node inches from the footprints. "These footprints were made by someone of about Rhonda's height and weight at about… 6:00 PM. Judging by the layers in the dust."

The others stared in amazement. Mr. Curtain, while at times a mortal foe, was also a brilliant man. Constance had been quite right; no one else would be able to solve the case. It had to be Curtain.

"Well, that means that Miss Kazembe is also off our suspects list." He straightened a grim expression on his face. "That means that the person who murdered Reynard Muldoon is among these four – Mrs. Washington, Mr. Washington, George, or Kate."

There was a horrified silence, interrupted by Sticky clearing his throat softly. "Um… Excuse me?" he said, reaching for where his polishing cloth had been before he had gotten his contacts only to withdraw it as he remembered that it was no longer there, "I can rule out me and my parents."

Kate looked at him in horror, immediately grasping the implications.

"We… we were at the table, but we never touched the Reynie's food. If we had, there would have been finger prints on his plate, but Moocho's finger prints were the only ones on there. So we couldn't have been the ones who poisoned Reynie…" He said the last part in a whisper, barely audible over the ticking of the clock resting on a nearby stack of books.

"But that means," Kate breathed, her eyes wide with horror, "That _I _was the one who killed him."

* * *

><p>*Ha! Puns! Get it? Cameras, not pleased with this <em>development!<em> Ha ha ha! Hee hee! Ha… Never mind.

Author's Note – All right. There's a little cliff hanger to keep you interested until I get the third and final instalment out. I think I did a decent job with the mystery, but it wasn't very dramatic. It was just a bit of logic and deduction. Ah, well. I'm no Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. On my profile, you can vote on who you think the murderer of Reynie is. So far, I have two votes for Inspector Blue and one for Reynie (suicide). Speaking of which, there are a few things in this story that make little to no sense. But never fear! (Grammar Defender is here? That sounds really weird…) All shall click together (hopefully) in chapter the third. Have fun waiting! It could be a while…


	3. The Climax

Author's Note – Here it is – the final chapter. It may or may not be climactic once I'm done (chapter two was much calmer than I anticipated), but it _will_ end the story. But I believe that I left you folks with a cliff hanger, so I'd better get writing! Enjoy.

Disclaimer – I don't own MBS. I do own Officer Darcy, Officer Daniel, and Lockhar – Oops – I

meant _Inspector Blue_.

Warnings – Character death, violence, moral dilemmas, and guilt.

* * *

><p>~Chapter Three~<p>

~Accusations, Both True and False~

The shocked silence was broken by Rhonda's incredulous, disbelieving voice. "Kate? But… it _can't _be her."

Ledroptha Curtain looked at her gravely. "And yet, who else could it be?"

Sticky was looking wildly from Mr. Curtain, to Kate, to Rhonda, to Kate, and back to Mr. Curtain. "But she couldn't have!" he sputtered wildly. "She didn't touch Reynie's plate!"

"But she did walk past Moocho when he was walking down the hall with Reynard's food."

"But she didn't have gloves dipped in formaldehyde!"

"Actually, my dear Washington, she _did _have gloves on, remember? I believe you do, as you attested to it yourself not two hours ago and have a prodigious memory."

"I remember her wearing her gloves to do the dishes, but they weren't dipped in formaldehyde."

As my previous investigations proved, yes they were."

"But… but… How could she have gotten Enab's Bane? The only place it grows is in a science lab or a government-protected area."

Mr. Curtain thought for a moment, before saying, "If the newspapers were correct, Miss Wetherall went on a class trip to the laboratory where they kept Enab's Bane. With her physical abilities, I'm sure that she could have found a way to obtain some."

Sticky, having exhausted his supply of arguments, began stuttering and spluttering worse than ever.

Kate was looking straight ahead, her face deathly pale and her eyes wide. "But I didn't do it," she whispered. "I didn't."

Officer Daniel, who had been trailing behind them all this time keeping an eye on Mr. Curtain, stepped forward. "Madam, I'm afraid you'll have to come with me," he said, his hand once more straying to the grip of his gun.

"But I didn't do it. I didn't kill him!" cried Kate, louder now.

Constance looked disturbed. "She's not lying. She really _didn't_ do it. You can't arrest her for something she didn't do!"

"Begging your pardon, little missy, but you can't know that." Even though Officer Daniel spoke in a loud voice, everyone ignored him.

"Perhaps Kate has a split-personality disorder," supplied Mr. Curtain. "Or possibly amnesia. That way it wouldn't be lying, but she'd still be guilty." He turned to Kate. "Do you remember everything you did this evening?"

"Yes! Of course I do."

Mr. Curtain frowned slightly. "Even when you were walking by Moocho on your way to the kitchen?"

"Yes! I already told you–" Kate broke off, a look of utter confusion on her face.

"What?" prompted Mr. Curtain.

"I was walking down the hall with my dish gloves on," Kate said, her eyes slightly unfocused, tracing her previous path on an imaginary diagram in front of her with a finger, "and Moocho was walking in the other direction with Reynie and the Washington's food, and… That's strange. The next thing I remember is walking away. I don't remember talking to Moocho or waving to him or… or _anything._"

Officer Daniel, while unaware of the brilliance of those present, was not a slow-witted man. He could see that this girl with the bucket, this Wetherall girl, was either lying or insane, and a criminal either way. In one fluid motion, he unlocked Mr. Curtain's handcuffs, removed them, and began to put them on Kate instead. Unfortunately, though, he was promptly knocked from his feet by an amazingly quick kick and the cuffs were knocked from his hands by a stinging slap.

"I'm sorry!" Kate exclaimed as Officer Daniel fell heavily to the ground. "I didn't mean to. Are you all right?" The excuse sounded pathetic, even to her own ears. She had just attacked – and defeated – a police officer _without meaning to?_ It sounded utterly ridiculous!

Officer Daniel drew his gun and pointed it at Kate. She froze. "Miss," he said, and he hated to hear his voice quaver, "I don't want to have to hurt you, so please do as you're told."

"Officer Daniel, put down the gun at once! Kate didn't know that she was doing it, so there's no need to hurt her." Number Two came and stood firmly between the Kate and the gun.

Officer Daniel slowly lowered the gun, not wishing to harm the innocent. Kate relaxed slightly, and Number Two stepped back, taking a banana out of her pocket and eating it rapidly.

Sticky looked at Constance in some concern – her face was dark with anger and grief, and she was staring at Mr. Curtain as though she was going to wring his neck. Sticky recognized this expression, of course, as the one she made when she was making changes to someone's mind, or possibly trying to get _really_ accurate thought-readings. But why was she making it now? And why at Curtain?

Five full minutes passed, Kate and Officer Daniel looking at each other, Rhonda and Number Two standing ready to help, Moocho looking nervously around, Sticky looking at Constance, Constance glowering at Mr. Curtain, and Mr. Curtain looking to the window, to Kate and the officer, and back again.

Stalemate.

Finally, Constance spoke up, her voice shrill and terrified, "It was _you!_" Everyone looked at her, startled and confused.

"What?" asked Number Two, a slightly dangerous edge to her voice.

"You!" she was talking to Mr. Curtain, but now she turned to the rest of them as well. "_He _was the one who poisoned Reynie! It was _him!_"

Officer Daniel looked at them all. "I thought that we just ascertained that it was this girl," he said, gesturing to Kate. Again, he was ignored.

"What do you mean, Constance?" asked Rhonda sharply. "Are you saying that Mr. Curtain poisoned Reynie? But he couldn't have done – he was in jail!" She looked at Mr. Curtain, a million questions burning in her eyes, only to find that Mr. Curtain was gone. The window gaped open, and the breeze ruffled the curtains slightly, sending a stack of loose documents flying. Curtain had escaped.

"I believe that we now know who _actually_ murdered Reynie," said Number Two, trying to sound calm and collected, despite the fact that she was trembling with rage. "Kate, would you pursue Curtain through the window while we try and cut him off from below?"

Kate was out the window before Number Two had finished the first sentence. Rage burned in her, drowning out her grief, her fear, and obliterating any scrap of caution that she might have had previously. Mr. Curtain had killed Reynie. He had lied to her, he had gotten on her good side, even, he had 'investigated' Reynie's death, and he had framed her for it. And then, to top it all, he had run away. _Coward_, she thought, blood pounding in her ears as she leaped to the nearest drainpipe and began to climb down, in close pursuit of the man that had caused her and her friends so much misery over the years.

Mr. Curtain reached the ground and began to run into the street, no longer hindered by his handcuffs. As he ran through the gate and out into the road, Kate reached the ground and began to run after him at three times his speed. Quickly closing the gap between them, Kate hesitated at the last moment. He _was_ a fairly old man, after all, and it seemed wrong to do what she was about to do. But then again, he was also Ledroptha Curtain, tyrant and enemy. She tackled him.

Mr. Curtain hit the asphalt hard. His glasses flew from his face, and he cried out in pain as Kate squashed his large nose onto the pavement. They struggled furiously for a couple of minutes, and although Kate quickly defeated the older man, he still managed to land a couple blows.

Still, by the time that Number Two and the others reached them, Kate was sitting on Mr. Curtain's back with a foot on his head, effectively preventing him from wriggling or causing more trouble than he had already caused that day.

"Would you hold him down so I can tie him?" asked Kate, her eyes still burning with anger at the man she was using as a chair.

Rhonda and Number Two nodded and came forward to keep the murderer from struggling as Kate took her rope from her bucket and tied him up securely.

A flash of light illuminated the faces of the seven people, followed by a distant boom of thunder. It began to rain.

"Let's get Curtain back into the mansion!" Rhonda yelled over another clap of thunder. Everyone (except Constance, of course) took hold of some part of Mr. Curtain and carried him back across the lawn, through the maze, and into the first-floor study, where they propped him in a chair.

They all took seats (except for Officer Daniel, who lingered in the doorway looking nervous) and looked at Mr. Curtain, Kate with anger, and the rest with confusion and shock. Rhonda was the first to speak.

"How?" she asked, her voice awash with mixed emotions. "How did you kill Reynie?"

Mr. Curtain glared at them with the eye that wasn't swollen shut from his battle with Kate and obstinately refused to speak. Constance, however, spoke for him. "He used his mind to do it."

"Surely you don't mean that he's telekinetic! That's impossible, Constance." Number Two burst out. Constance glared at her. "Sorry," she said, taking out a granola bar. "Please, go on."

Constance resumed. "Remember how Mr. Benedict had been telling Mr. Curtain about how he could control minds by convincing them to do things? Like hypnosis? Well, Mr. Curtain thought that he might be able to do that sort of thing too. He started to exert control over his guard's minds – convincing them to give him extra food, and that sort of thing. Then, after a month or so, he tried to make them do something that they wouldn't normally do otherwise." Tears were beginning to form in Constance's eyes, and she made no attempt to brush them away. "He had vowed to kill everyone who landed him in jail one at a time, see, so he made Inspector Blue set fire to the library when Mr. Benedict was in it."

Rhonda gasped.

"He was really pleased with himself, so he tried to kill another. He tried to kill Milligan, but –"

"_WHAT? _Milligan's death was _his_ fault?" Kate rose to her feet, her teeth bared and her eyes wild with rage. "I'll _kill _–"

"Kate, calm down! Let Constance finish!" yelled Sticky, surprising her into a furious silence.

"He tried to kill Milligan, but the other agents got him first. Then he moved on to Reynie. He found out about Kate's impending field trip to the laboratory with the Enab's Bane. He got to know her really well so that he could control her, and when she finally went on her field trip, he made her get the plant.

"The next day – today – he had Kate poison Reynie's food. He had her volunteer for dishes, dunk her gloves in fomladeehid –"

"Formaldehyde," Sticky corrected.

"Whatever! Anyway, he made her dip her gloves in that stuff and put it in Reynie's food when she was passing Moocho in the hall. But you didn't think we'd ask _you _for help, did you?" She was talking to the trussed up man in the chair again. "You didn't think of what that would mean, did you? _Did _you?"

"No, I did not." Mr. Curtain glared at them all with his good eye.

Several more minutes ticked by; minutes in which with Kate seethed, Constance wept, Rhonda and Number Two comforted, Moocho looked astonished, Sticky organized his thoughts (which needed quite a lot of organizing indeed), Mr. Curtain continued to glare around, and Officer Daniel looked at his boots, embarrassed and awkward. The Stonetown clock stuck twelve, making them all jump.

It shook them out of their previous silence, and Rhonda took the opportunity to speak. "It begs the question," she began, "what is to be done now?"

Number Two turned to her. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Well, we can hardly keep Mr. Curtain imprisoned, now that we know what he can do. So it begs the question – What do we do with him?"

Constance looked at Sticky, aghast. "We can't do that!"

The others looked at one another, perplexed. "What do you mean, Constance?" asked Moocho.

"Well, we can't do what Sticky suggested, of course."

"I'm sorry, Sticky, but I didn't hear your suggestion. What was it?" Rhonda coaxed gently.

Sticky blushed slightly. "I… I didn't _say _it." He looked mortified. "I mean, I don't think that it's what we should do, it's just… I mean to say, it was just a _thought_. I can't control what I think about… so…"

"What was your idea?" Rhonda asked again, this time more firmly.

"We could kill him." Sticky's voice was a whisper. "If we kept him alive, couldn't he just do what he did before?" No one laughed at Sticky. No one called him names or told him what a terrible, unethical thing it would be to sentence Mr. Curtain to death. Because Sticky was right; even if Mr. Curtain was kept isolated from all of humanity in a South American cave, he would still be able to reach into Kate's mind and control her. In fact, their only guarantee that he wasn't currently doing so was that Mr. Curtain had recently fallen asleep.

Silence fell again, and this time it was fifteen minutes until someone spoke.

"Sticky's right," Number Two said grudgingly. "The only way to keep him from doing this again will be to kill him. I can't see any other way."

Rhonda (who, unlike Number Two, could not stay awake indefinitely) rubbed sleep out of her eyes and tried – and failed – to stifle a huge yawn. "We can't do that – it's immoral."

"What else do you propose, then?"

Another three minutes passed in silence.

"We could put him in a coma," Rhonda said slowly, "and keep him alive."

"That's no good," put in Kate. "Then he'd just be taking up space in the hospitals _and _being no good to anyone. Induced coma doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe we could put him in an insanity ward?" suggested Officer Daniel, but once again nobody saw fit to respond. He was really getting sick of being ignored.

"I don't think that we should –" began Constance, but Rhonda cut across her.

"Actually, Officer Daniel has point. Why _don't _we put him in an insanity ward?"

Number Two shook her head. "Won't work," she said. "He controls people's _minds_. Moving him to another location won't change anything if he can just manipulate us using telepathic hypnosis."

"Unless he has a specific range," Rhonda reasoned. "Constance has a limited range – maybe Curtain has one too."

"My range is as far as I can concentrate," Constance looked at her adopted sisters with puffy red eyes. "Mr. Curtain can concentrate better than I can, despite his sleep sickness and nose like a toucan."

"Toucan's don't have noses – they have bills," Number Two said rather waspishly.

"Poetic licence."

"It doesn't matter!" Rhonda was looking at the still sleeping Mr. Curtain, her look decidedly dejected. He's been all over the world – he can probably concentrate on us from anywhere."

"So scrap _that_ idea." Kate seemed to be returning – however slowly – to her usual cheerful self.

Sticky's eyes lit up suddenly. "What if we find a substance that thought or will or whatever it is that he uses to control us can't pass through? That way, we can build a building out of that substance, put him in it, and leave him alone!"

Rhonda shook her head. "It would take weeks of careful experimentation to find such a substance. And while we were doing that, Curtain could control one of us again."

They were all silent for a while, each trying to think of a solution to the impossible problem set before them, each trying to ignore the idea that kept poking at them with cruel fingers – to kill Ledroptha Cutain.

_Reynie would know what to do,_ thought Kate bitterly. _He always knew what to do. _And to a certain degree, it was true. Her deceased friend – _their_ deceased friend – would have easily thought of an answer. But Reynie was dead. Dead, leaving them all with a terrible problem of morals that they could see no solution to besides execution of the criminal.

In a way, it would be fair to kill him – an eye for an eye, a death for a death. And yet, how could they, in good conscience, sentence the sleeping man before them to death? Had Mr. Benedict still been with them, it would have destroyed him to hear that his friends and family had executed his brother. Despite all the terrible things that Mr. Curtain had done, his brother had still loved him. But at the same time, there was no other way to ensure that their minds stay clear and completely their own.

The darkness outside had lightened by a few degrees before the silence ended. This time, it was Mr. Curtain who broke it.

"Kill me, then," he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, but in the silent room he might as well have shouted. "I know what you are thinking about. Kill me, and be done with it."

Number Two looked at him sadly. "I don't see any other way," she whispered. Tears were once again visible in her eyes. "Kate… would you untie Mr. Curtain's legs, please? So he can walk to… to the police station."

Kate strode forward. Halfway to the bound-up man, however, she stopped. She looked at him. He looked back. Her expression went blank. Then, Kate walked the rest of the way over to her enemy and knelt beside him. She drew out her pocket knife and flipped open the blade, but instead of cutting the rope, she plunged it into Mr. Curtain's chest.

As Moocho and Sticky cried out in horror, Kate, still expressionless, plunged the knife back into his chest for a second time, a third time. Mr. Curtain cried out in pain, his breath rasping and rattling horribly. Never once did his eyes leave Kate's face. When her army knife entered his chest for a fourth time, Mr. Curtain slumped over and closed his eyes. He was no longer breathing.

Kate dropped to her knees, crying and shuddering uncontrollably. She had killed Ledroptha Curtain. Moocho dragged her away from Mr. Curtain's corpse, and she made no effort to stop him.

"I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to!" she sobbed over and over again. The murderer of Reynie Muldoon had taken control of her mind one last time.

"It's all right, Kate," Rhonda said, even as she drew back in horror at the blood slowly spreading across the floor from Mr. Curtain's chest. "We know it was Curtain who made you do it. It's all right."

But Kate knew that it was not all right. Yes, Mr. Curtain had forced her to kill him, that didn't change the fact that she was a murderer. There was a part of her that had wanted to do it anyway, too, which made her guilt even worse. _Would I have killed him anyway? Even if he hadn't made me?_ The truthful answer was yes, she would've. Mr. Curtain's blood dripped sickeningly off her fingers, a horrible reminder of what she had just done.

A small, plump little hand came to rest on her shoulder. Constance, regardless of Kate's horrific crime, had come to comfort her friend. Kate hugged the eight year-old girl, not caring about the bloody handprints that she was getting on Constance's back. "Thanks, Connie-girl," she whispered, tears still falling thick and fast.

Officer Daniel had seen this all. He had understood almost none of it, but he had stayed nonetheless. Now, however, he turned and ran, unable to stand the sight of the murdered man and the blood-covered girl. He needed to flee – to leave this house of horrors. Too much death – too much tragedy. Whatever this place was, whoever these people were, Officer Daniel needed to get away from it all.

The police car pulled out of the mansion's driveway.

The seasons stretch to years, years to decades, decades to centuries. The man present all throughout the Case of the Enab's Bane, Officer Daniel, will never tell of what he saw. The memories shall forever haunt all who know the sad events that took place in the Benedict Mansion, and the officer will not wish that misery upon anyone. Not his best friend, not his worst enemy.

As for Miss Kate Wetherall, we must all hope that she someday recovers.

* * *

><p>Author's Note – Why is it that whenever I write something, it ends up being depressing? Perhaps I'll make my next story unnecessarily cheery. Maybe. It would be nice if you reviewed the two chapter threes to avoid confusion. Thanks!<p>

~Grammar Defender~


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